Under My Skin
by InTheCompanyOfDragons
Summary: Sam has found a way to cope with the struggles in his life. The question is, how far will he take it? And does he have the will to survive the craziness that is his life, and can his family pull him back from the edge? Warning: Involves Self Harm Rated M
1. Chapter 1

Under My Skin

Sam was tired. He was tired a lot lately. He had just started at another new school and the upper classmen were giving him a hard time, but Sam just didn't care enough to fight back. He could handle a few kids pushing him around a bit, I mean his family fights monsters, no one was gonna care that little Sammy was getting pushed around a bit. Things had changed in the last year; Dean had left high school, decided to get his GED instead, and now at nineteen, he wasn't exactly around much, preferring to hang out at bars, pick up girls, and he had been going out on hunts with their dad more often. Sam didn't even argue with his dad anymore. When he was told to train, he trained, when he was told they were moving, he was the first one with his bag packed and waiting in the car. Guess he understood why Dean never cared much about school and friends, he was right, it was easier to keep your grade just high enough not to attract attention from Child Protection Services, and then get the hell out of dodge. He didn't care anymore.

Sam was walking home from the local high school. Dean was supposed to pick him up, but he must have gotten distracted. Sam didn't really care he preferred to be alone. At fifteen, Sam was all kinds of awkward. He was no longer a chubby twelve year old, instead he had shot up to almost 6 feet, but seemed to have gained no weight to balance off his new height. He was gangly and awkward, and was having a difficult time adjusting, which made him an easy target for bullies. Sam turned the corner, and was confronted by three boys from the football team. He was pinned up against the wall by the two smaller boys. The third boy Sam recognized, he was the quarterback, one of those kids that people in town treated like royalty, and anything that he did wrong was easily covered up and ignored.

"Hey new kid." The quarterback said. "Your wallet ain't in your backpack, you got it on you? I really could use a couple of bucks." Sam bucked against the other two boys.

"Sorry fresh out, you gonna call off your hounds?"

"Why would I do that?"

"Cause attacking someone three on one just makes you look like a little bitch?" His attacker smiled.

"No I am not gonna do that, but I will do something for you. I am gonna knock that smart ass right out of your mouth." Sam saw the blow coming and saw the blood spurting out of his nose. He hit the ground when the other two boys let go of him. He felt another hit to his ribs, which he was sure he heard crack, then a hit to the back of his head, and then lights out.

When Sam came too he heard his phone ringing. His books were scattered everywhere, but his wallet was still in the hidden compartment where he kept his butterfly knife. Guess they never did find what they were looking for. The annoying ringing continued and aggravated his headache. He searched for it, and picked it up. It was Dean. He was in so much trouble.

"Hello" Sam said into the phone, trying to keep the tears from is voice.

"Sam!" Dean said, he sounded genuinely worried, which made Sam mad, if he was so worried, he should have been at the school to pick him up. "Where are you? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine Dean, I'll be home in a few minutes."

"Jesus Sam, it is almost 6 o'clock." Sam's anger boiled over.

"Fuck off Dean." Sam slammed the phone shut to the sound of Dean screaming from the other end. Sam stood up, and whimpered. He could feel his ribs shifting under his skin. Breathing was a bitch. He wiped as much blood as he could from his face; grimacing when he realized it hadn't stopped. He was bruised and hurting. A year ago, this is about the time he would call big brother back, and beg him to come and find him, and Dean would find a way to make it all better. But todays Sam Winchester, couldn't find it in him to do that. He began to walk the last five minutes home.

When he got home, his brother and his father were not in the living room of the run down apartment they were currently calling home. They were in Sam and Dean's bedroom, and it gave Sam just enough time to get to the bathroom and close and lock the door, before Dean's big brother sense went off, and there was a loud knock on the bathroom door, his dad seemed to have walked out the front.

"Sam, you have exactly 10 seconds, to get your ass out here before I kick the goddamn door down!" Dean would do it too. He had before, and he certainly would do it again. His nose had finally stopped bleeding, so he cleaned the blood off his face. Unfortunately there was still a vivid bruise on his face, nothing he could hide. He sighed and opened the door. Dean was standing there with that pissed off Winchester snarl on his face, until he looked up at Sam and his jaw dropped.

"What the hell happened, Sammy?" Dean grabbed Sam's face but Sam pulled away.

"I got jumped." Sam mumbled then leaned against the wall.

"What the hell Sam, did you fight back at all?"

"There were three of them Dean. I was pinned, I couldn't exactly do much. Wouldn't have happened, if I hadn't of missed my ride." Sam stared at Dean accusingly.

"I am sorry Sam, I was… I just got…"

"Distracted? Yeah I figured." Sam turned to walk away and proceed into his bedroom.

"Sam, we aren't done." He reached out and pulled on Sam's arm and Sam let out a yelp, and pulled his arms back in to shield himself. "Jesus Sam, where does it hurt, did you break your arm or something?" Sam shook his head and took a deep breath.

"Ribs… and I hit my head pretty bad." Dean looked at Sam, and then heard the front door open; he turned to see his dad walking through. Sam took the opportunity, and went back to his bedroom. He didn't want his dad to ask how after all the training, Sam still managed to get jumped, by humans nonetheless. He knew Dean would follow him. He didn't really care. He could hear Dean and his father talking through the door.

"…Just leave him alone Dean. He is gonna have to learn eventually."

"Dad, I can't. He might have a concussion, we can't screw around with head injuries."

"He would tell us, if he was hurt badly Dean."

"No he wouldn't Dad."

"Fine, do whatever you want Dean, but all this babying isn't gonna help him, it is gonna hurt him in the long run." Sam wanted to cry. No matter what he did his dad thought he was weak. Sam changed his pants and laid down on his bed, focusing on breathing. It hurt, and Sam tried to control the tears, but he couldn't stop them from sliding down his cheek. Dean opened the door to their bedroom and Sam wiped the tears from his face. Dean took the first aid kit out from under his bed and sat down beside Sam. They just looked at each other for a few minutes without saying anything.

"You should change your shirt Sammy, you got blood all over it." Sam huffed.

"I couldn't…. can't lift my arms that high." Sam's speech began to slur, and his eyes closed.

"Hey." Dean slapped his cheek slowly until Sam's eyes slid back open. "No sleeping yet, I got to take care of these injuries. Come on you gotta sit up." Sam grumbled, but let Dean help him sit up.

"I can do this you know, you don't have to help." Dean laughed.

"Shut up Sam." Dean opened the first aid kit, and cut off Sam's shirt with the scissors. He bandaged up Sam's ribs, wasn't much else he could do. His nose wasn't broken, but judging by his pupils, he had a bit of a concussion, nothing that wouldn't heal with a few days rest. "Rest up Sammy, I will wake you up in a little bit to check on that head of yours." Dean went to stand up, but his little brother had a death grip on his shirt. Sam's eyes looked up at his brother, and Dean nodded his head at Sam. It wasn't often Sam asked for his brother anymore, so Dean wasn't going to deny him, they would just pretend it never happened in the morning. Sam slid over a little bit and Dean leaned back against the headboard and put his hand on Sam's shoulder. Sam sighed.

"Do you think I am weak too, Dean?" Sam slurred.

"You aren't weak. Nobody thinks you are weak."

"Dad does."

"No he doesn't. Since when do you care what dad thinks?" Sam teared up and then closed his eyes.

"Since always. I don't fight with him because I don't care, I just want him to see me." Dean didn't know what to say to that, and the next time he looked over, Sam was fast asleep.

When Sam woke up Dean was over in his bed. Probably a good thing, that would have been awkward. It was early Saturday morning and Dean would be asleep for a while after all, he had probably been up all night so he could wake Sam up every couple hours to make sure his concussion wasn't getting any worse. Sam appreciated it, and missed that closeness with his brother, and wished it didn't take an injury to get his brother back. Sam put on a zip up hoodie and went out into the kitchen to grab some breakfast and saw his dad sitting at the table drinking coffee. He didn't even look up from his paper.

"Where's your brother?" John asked.

"Still asleep."

"Why? It was a Friday night and he didn't even go out. How could he possibly be tired?"

"Guess he stayed up most of the night." John looked at Sam, with a condescending glare.

"Looking after you?" Sam looked away uneasily. John sighed. "He can't afford to be looking after you all the time Sam. You can't handle a couple of thugs, what happens next time you get hurt on a hunt? You are gonna get Dean killed. Do you want Deans blood on your hands? Think about it. I got a hunt in Nevada. Tell your brother I'll be back in a couple weeks. Do all your training when I am gone. Can't get sloppy." Just like that Sam was alone, and feeling worse then the beating the night before could ever make him feel. He went into the bathroom and sat on the edge of the tub. He didn't know what to do anymore, nothing he did was right, and every time he tried to make things better they seemed to get worse. Sam sighed and reached for the first aid kit. He cut the bandages off of his chest and felt his ribs jar as he took a breath. He tightened his hand with each breath, and then gasped when he pricked his thumb on the surgical scissors he was holding. The blood pooled up, and he felt instantly calm. It was strange. He looked at the scissors in his hands and brought it down to his left arm. He made two straight cuts across it, and watched the blood pool up slowly. He found some peace in it; it was something he could control. He jumped when there was a knock on the door.

"Sammy? You okay in there?" It was Dean, and Sam scrambled to clean up the blood and pulled down his sleeve.

"Yeah, I am fine. Just hang on a second." He flushed the toilet, and opened the door. "What's up Dean?" He said washing his hands.

"Nothing I was just checking on you. How are the ribs?"

"Same as how they always feel. Only one is actually broken, don't worry I will be fine."

"Okay. Just let me know if you need anything for it. Where's Dad?"

"'Hunt, in Nevada. Will be gone for a couple weeks." Dean looked disappointed. He was stuck here with Sam while dad was out hunting. "We gotta train today." Dean quirked an eyebrow at him.

"You can't train Sam. You got busted ribs and a concussion, you're benched for the next week Sam."

"Dad said we had to Dean. Can't get sloppy."

"Tell you what Sammy. You do 1 sit up without looking like you are going to bust into tears, then we will talk about training." Sam shifted on his feet knowing that he couldn't do any. "That's what I thought. How about lunch at the diner? Little late for breakfast, pick up some beers, watch a movie tonight or something?"

"Don't you have plans or something? It's Saturday, isn't that bars and cheap hoes night?"

"Haha Sammy. Not in the mood for bars, and you are a cheap enough date, two beers and you're falling off your chair."

"How would you know that Dean?

"Please Sam, I have seen you drunk, you suck at covering it up."

"Yeah, yeah you know everything." Dean smiled.

"You suck at hiding things Sam, of course I know everything." As Same felt the cuts on his arm underneath his sweater, he only hoped he was better at hiding things then Dean thought.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

It had been three weeks, and John still wasn't home. Sam didn't mind much, he was enjoying spending time with his brother, but now Dean was starting to get antsy.

"How is dad still not home?" Dean asked, more to himself then to Sam.

"You know Dad Dean, he said he would be two weeks, doesn't mean its true." Sam stood from the couch, his ribs still aches, but they were getting better. He was training again, slower then usual, but training nonetheless. "I'm gonna go for a jog, didn't go this morning."

"Why didn't you go this morning?"

"Tired, slept in late." Sam went into the bedroom he shared with Dean, so he could change into some sweats. It was too hot to be wearing a sweatshirt, but he really didn't have a choice. The cuts on his arm had faded, but they were still noticeable against his pale skin, and when you have an older brother who has catalogued every injury you have had since birth, he would notice the two purplish scratches. It was also weird to think that 2 weeks ago, he changed in front of Dean all the time, I mean they were teenaged brothers who had shared a room for most of their lives, it was nothing they hadn't seen before. He didn't realize how hard it would be to hide them, yet looking down at the scars he frowned, it had made him feel better, but now he felt great, he guessed he would never have to do that again. Dean came in and flopped on his bed.

"Isn't a little hot for the sweatshirt Sammy?"

"Maybe I just like to sweat."

"You are weird. I knew that time I dropped you on your head as a baby would come back to bite me." Sam glared at his brother. "Hey, it was only once, but it could be the reason you are so strange, and boring, and do not know how to have any fun." Sam threw a pillow at his brother and Dean smiled. "Don't be too long."

"Give me 2 hours before you send out the search parties." Sam left the motel and decided to jog through the park, he needed some new scenery. He was feeling good, and decided to push it an extra mile then he had been doing, by the time he got home he was regretting it. His ribs were aching from the run and from his heavy breathing. It wasn't anything life or death, it was just annoying. He walked into the apartment and Dean was making dinner. Dean looked him and then tapped his watch.

"1 hour and 52 minutes. Cutting it pretty close there Sam." Sam flipped Dean off, and Dean let out a laugh. Sam walked to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water then shifted his body weight trying to make his side feel better. Of course Dean noticed. "You alright?"

"Yeah, I just pushed too hard, I'll be fine."

"Take some Tylenol, and lay down."

"It's fine Dean, I am just gonna sit on the couch." Dean frowned and took some Tylenol out of a bottle on the counter.

"Take this." Sam rolled his eyes.

"Okay, Daddy." Sam turned and walked away; he felt a slap on the back of his head. "Ow!"

"There, now you can take it for your head, and if you call me Daddy ever again, you are gonna need a shit ton of morphine because I will put you in a full body cast." Dean smiled, and turned back to the kitchen. Sam lounged on the couch, reading a worn out copy of The Outsiders that he had managed to keep through all of the moving they had done over the last few years. He loved that book. He often wondered what it would be like to have a group of friends like that, one that would fight and die for you. He had his family, but they were blood. They were supposed to fight for you; it doesn't mean they want to. What could make a group of people come together, and want to fight for your life? Sam read until Dean called him over to eat. Sam and Dean were just finishing dinner when their dad walked in.

"Welcome back Dad. Everything go okay?" Dean wasn't going mention the fact he was a week late, and neither was Sam. That was not a fight worth having.

"Was fine Dean. Vampire nest. Caleb and Bobby helped me out." He took an envelope out of his pocket and handed it to Sam. "This was in the P.O box when I got home, it's from your school. Anything you want to tell me?"

"It's just my midterm Dad." Sam said.

"How are your grades?"

"I'm passing Dad, not gonna attract any attention."

"Good. I am going to go shower then hit the sack, I haven't slept much lately, Friggin' vampires." John walked toward the bathroom, Sam looked at the envelope in his lap. He would look at it later. If his dad didn't care why should he? He cleared their dishes off the table and put them in the sink to wash them. Dean stood up like he was going to leave but then turned the chair around and straddled it watching Sam in the kitchen. Sam looked over at his brother, but Dean said nothing.

"You are kinda creeping me out Dean. What do you want?" Sam asked. Dean looked at Sam with the look he usually gave Sam when he was in trouble.

"I am just curious as to why Sam, geek boy extraordinaire isn't reading over his grades a million times." Sam didn't have an answer so he shrugged, and went back to doing the dishes. He whipped around when he heard paper ripping. Dean was opening the envelope.

"Dean give that back."

"Why Sam? You have never been worried about me seeing your report cards before. Hell, when you were younger we used to stick them on the fridge."

"Well, maybe I am not ten years old anymore, and maybe my grades are none of your goddamn business." Sam made a grab for the paper, but he knew this wasn't a fight he was going to win. Dean took his mid term out of the envelope and looked at Sam's grades. By the look on Dean's face, he was not impressed.

"What the hell is this Sam?"

"Those are passing grades."

"So what? You are better then this, I mean, you have like a what? A 60 average?"

"58 average, actually." Sam looked at his brother; Dean actually seemed pained by this. Sam turned back to the sink and kept washing the dishes.

"What makes you think this is okay Sam?"

"Well, I am not failing out of school, doing less homework means I can do more research, and help out on hunts more, and it keeps Dad off my back. I'm passing, that's good enough by Dad's standards."

"Yeah well, it's not okay by mine Sammy. You can do better then this. And you will do better then this." Sam slammed the glass he was holding so hard it shattered in his hand.

"I can't please everyone Dean. Lets face it. My grades don't mean shit in our world, I stay in school to keep CPS off our ass, and as soon as I turn sixteen Dad's gonna tell me to go get my GED so he can stop staying in towns long enough for me to go to school, and then we are gonna hunt until we all get maimed and one of us ends up dead."

"This isn't you talking Sammy…"

"You're right, its _Sam_ talking. I had to grow up eventually. I am so sick, of trying to balance worlds Dean. I can't. Just let this go, I am going to bed."

"Okay Sam, go to bed, but this isn't over, I am not accepting this." Sam walked back to his room and sat on his bed. His heart literally hurt right now, he was confused. When he fought with his dad, Dean was never on his side, now that he was doing what his Dad wanted, Dean was mad at him. He felt like he couldn't do anything right. His hands were shaking with anger, and he needed to get it out. Then he remembered, he knew how to make this better. He went over to Deans bag, and opened up the shaving kit, and took out a razorblade from the bag and sat down in front of the door, he didn't need Dean to walk in on this. Sam took the blade down to his arm and made two more straight cuts. He didn't feel any better. Sam zoned out and cut himself again, and again, and again. By the time he stopped he had tears running down his face, and his arm was dripping blood. He had done more damage this time, they weren't that deep, there was just a lot of them. He grabbed a black t-shirt from the floor and covered his arm with it, soaking up the blood right through the fabric. He took a deep breath, and felt calm again. He lifted himself off the floor, pulled down his sleeve and fell into a deep sleep.

Dean woke him up in the middle of the night, and sat on the end of Sam's bed.

"You know, I was thinking earlier about when you were little, you were always asking questions, you wanted to know everything about everything. You're favourite question was why." Dean smiled, and then it faltered a bit. "You're your favourite answer for a long time was "cause Dean says so". Look Sam, I know that can't be the answer I give you anymore, I think I've known that since you found out about the monsters in the dark. You aren't a kid, and I can't treat you like one. So I am just gonna tell you the truth." Sam looked at his brother.

"What truth is that Dean?"

"You're right Sam, with this family, there is no other way. We are gonna fight these creatures in the dark until the end of our lives. It isn't fair, and I am sorry that you have that weight on you. But I also know something else. If you don't want this, I won't keep you here. Hell, if you don't want this I want you to leave."

"That doesn't make any sense Dean. I can't leave and stay at the same time."

"You're right you can't. So when the time comes, I am gonna get you outta here."

"Dean, you're telling me that if I go, I'm gonna lose my family, I don't know anything else. "

"Sam, I can't guarantee what Dad is gonna do, and I can't even guarantee that we are ever gonna see each other again, because this life does terrible things to people, and I know me and Dad aren't exactly gonna die of old age." Sam looked down and choked back his tears.

"Can you guarantee anything Dean?" Dean looked at his brother and smiled, but his eyes stayed sad.

"I can guarantee two things Sammy. One, no matter what you choose to do with your life, you are gonna do great. And no matter what you do, or how far we are from each other, I promise that I will always be your brother. That's all I got kiddo."

"Okay, Dean."

"Sam, if you don't want to get straight A's and nerd out constantly I can understand that, but you gotta do better then this. I know you have dreams outside of this life, and I accept that. But you won't get anywhere pulling this crap. I mean look at me, this is all I am built for, I can't leave now."

"What about Dad?"

"Dad is gonna fight you every step of the way, you just have to decide if it is worth it or not." Sam smiled.

"I'll fix this Dean, I promise."

"That's good to hear little brother. So since we are already in the middle of a giant chick flick moment, is there anything else we need to talk about?" Sam pushed on his arm and thought about telling Dean his secret for a minute. But he wasn't ready, he found something that made him feel better, he still needed that.

"No Dean, I'm good. Thanks."

"Okay, I'm gonna hit the sac. Good night Sam."

"Night."

Sam did what he promised, he got his grades up, and Dean was relieved to see his little brother coming back. Of course Sam still cut, it was his stress reliever whenever he had a hard exam, or a hunt went bad. The scars were getting harder and harder to hide, the older ones were turning white, and weren't fading; he hadn't realized they had been so deep. But he couldn't stop, he never felt as calm as he did, right after he drained some blood from his wrist. It was euphoric and Sam figured if he kept it hidden, it wouldn't hurt anybody. So he did, he kept it hidden for months. Then right after his 16th birthday, he realized he couldn't keep his secret hidden forever.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3:

Sam was glad it was finally summer. He had been working his butt off and had managed to pull his grades up to a 75. Dean was please, and Sam knew he could do better next year. He was right about his Dad, he wanted him to take his GED and start helping on hunts full time, but Dean told John that Sam needed to stay in school, and their Dad let the issue drop for now. He would probably bring it up again at the end up summer, but for now they had other things to worry about. They had taken a hunt in Texas this week. A werewolf, they had three days to find it before the next full moon. That meant Sam was in full gear living off of coffee until they found whoever they were looking for. On the day of the full moon Sam had found the werewolf but then when he did, he had wished he had never had to known who it was they were hunting.

"What did you find Sammy?" Dean asked coming out of the shower.

"Well… only one serious dog bite was reported in any of the local hospitals in the past 3 months."

"Okay sounds like that's who we are looking for, name?" John walked in before Sam could say anything.

"Sam, report now." John barked.

"I got her Dad."

"Name and address?"

"Dana Meyer, 154 Brinkley avenue, the house backs up into the woods, so that is probably where she will go."

"Okay, we hunt her tonight."

"Dad, there's something you should know about her…"

"What's that Sam?"

"Dad… she's thirteen… I doubt she even knows what she is." John looked at his sons and sighed. Sam always had a big heart, he wasn't saying that was a bad thing, but it wasn't something you can have in this world.

"She is a monster Sam, and she needs to be dealt with. She is killing people. I am sorry, but that is just the way it is. Pack up; we leave to scout in two hours. I will go grab us some dinner." John left and Sam and Dean were left alone in the room. Sam sighed, and started packing the guns that were lying on the bed.

"You okay Sam?" Dean asked from the other side of the bed.

"Yeah, I am fine." Dean was packing up extra silver bullets into the weapons bag, and watching his little brother load bullets into his gun. Sam looked tense; he looked like that a lot lately.

"Maybe you should sit this one out Sam." Sam had fire in his eyes at that comment.

"I can do my job Dean, it's summer, and I have nothing else to do. Don't treat me like a kid." Dean stared at Sam for a minute then nodded. Sam grabbed his backpack and went into the bathroom to change. He was mad, mostly because Dean was right, he didn't want to do this job, I mean she was a kid. Sam sat on the toilet and took his secret weapon out of the front pocket, only three cuts today. Just enough to take the edge off that was enough. He felt better and put on a pair of jeans and a long sleeve shirt. They were in Texas; it was too hot for a sweater. By the time he went back out into the main room of the motel John was back with burgers for everyone. Sam sat down at the table and began to eat.

"Do you have a hatred for t-shirts or something Sam?" Sam hadn't worn a t-shirt in a long time, and Dean was starting to notice.

"We are going into the woods Dean, figured it would be better to cover up, you never know what you could catch out there." Dean seemed to think that was a good enough answer because he let it drop. After dinner they headed out towards Dana Meyer's house, John in the truck and Sam and Dean in the Impala. They sat down the street from the girl's house until they saw the girl run into the woods. It was time to hunt. They split up, Sam and Dean went one way and John went the other. They were circling the woods, looking for the werewolf.

"Sam, time to circle back and go find Dad." Dean said, Sam nodded and stepped ahead of Dean. He heard Dean scream and a thud and Sam whipped around. Dean was unconscious against a tree with a werewolf standing over him.

"DEAN!" Sam yelled, and he took one shot, which hit the werewolf in the shoulder, she let out a scream and she turned toward Sam. She was fast, and ran at Sam, and swiped her claws across his stomach. Sam felt the pain but could not let it hurt at the moment. The werewolf had him pinned to the ground and was trying to bite him. Sam held the wolfs face with one hand and shot the werewolf through the heart with the gun he held in his other hand. The werewolf was dead, and it morphed back into the little girl. Sam pushed the girl off of him and pushed himself off the ground, he walked over to Dean and collapsed next to him. "Dean wake up! If you don't I am going to scratch the Impala."

"You wouldn't dare you little brat." Dean mumbled. "God, my head. What the hell happened?"

"You got knocked out by a thirteen year old werewolf."

"Shut up Sam. Where's Dad?"

"No idea, I am sure he will be here soon, he must have heard the gunshots."

"Gunshots? You got her?"

"Yeah. She's dead."

"Salt and Burned?"

"Sorry I didn't get to that part, I was having some difficulties standing." Dean shifted and turned on the flashlight he had in his hand.

"What do you mean Sam? Are you okay?" Sam laughed, he wasn't even sure why he was laughing.

"Not really. I am bleeding pretty bad." Sam tilted Dean's flashlight down towards his stomach and moved his hand. There were four long deep scratches starting at Sam's ribs and going down across his stomach and they were bleeding through the fabric and onto the ground.

"Jesus Christ! Why didn't you say something before?" Dean took off his t-shirt and pressed down hard on the wounds, it made Sam hiss in pain, but he knew Dean was just trying to stop the bleeding.

"Had to make sure you were okay Dean." Sam could feel the darkness closing in around him; he was going to lose consciousness soon. "I don't know how long I can stay awake."

"Sam you stay with me, okay? We will get you patched up, but I need you to stay awake." Dean was panicking, Sam had been injured on hunts before, but this was bad, really bad.

"I'm trying Dean, but I am tired."

"Sam! Dean! You guys okay?" John yelled from somewhere in the woods.

"Dad, we need your help! Quick!" John Winchester came running through the woods towards his sons, and he saw his older son holding his shirt on his younger sons abdomen.

"What happened?"

"I got knocked out, and Sam killed the werewolf, but she got in a swipe, he has lost a lot of blood Dad." John kneeled down next to Sam.

"Sam you with me?" Sam nodded at his Dad. "Can you stand?" Sam didn't answer for a second.

"Yeah, if you guys help me." John and Dean flanked either side of there youngest, and helped him back to the car. Dean laid him down in the back seat of the Impala and got back into the front. John got back into his truck and they made there way back to the hotel room as quickly as they could without attracting any attention, because getting pulled over with a bleeding teenager in the back seat wasn't good for any of them.

"Sammy? You still with me?" Sam's eyes were closed, but he was still awake.

"Yeah Dean, I'm still here."

"Good, we will be back at the motel in a few minutes and we will get you fixed up." Sam nodded then opened his eyes.

"Hey Dean? Can you do me a favour?"

"Anything Sammy."

"Obviously this shirt is toast and it gonna have to come off when you stitch this mess up. So make sure it is you and not Dad who is stitching this up, and when you see the other scars, don't freak out okay?" Dean pulled into the motel parking lot and looked back it his brother.

"What are you talking about Sam?" Sam didn't answer, he was asleep, so Dean just picked up his little brother, who was not nearly as light as he used to be, and brought him into the hotel room. His dad was putting out the first aid kit and some whiskey on the table next to the bed. "I can handle this Dad, the bleeding has slowed down, I am just gonna stitch it up and put him to bed."

"Alright Dean, I am gonna head back to my room, let me know if you boys need anything." John left and Dean picked up the medical scissors from the first aid kit. He didn't know what he was going to find, but he knew that Sam had been hiding something from him. He cut the front of Sam's shirt and exposed the wounds on Sam's chest and stomach, they were deep and seeping, and they were going to hurt like a bitch when he cleaned them out. He pulled off the rest of Sam's shirt and pulled Sam's arm out of the sleeve, his hand ran over something raised on Sam's arm. Dean looked and that is when he saw what Sam was so scared of him seeing. White, red, and pink scars crisscrossed Sam's left arm, and there were fresh scabs on top of all of that. Dean wanted to cry, because he knew that those marks had to be self-inflicted.

"Jesus Christ Sammy, why did you do?"

"I'm sorry Dean." Sam had opened his eyes and was looking up at his brother and Dean's eyes were filling with tears. Dean wiped his eyes, and looked back at the first aid kit.

"We will talk about that tomorrow Sam. For now I gotta get this mess cleaned up. Deep breath, this is gonna hurt." Sam nodded and Dean dumped the bottle of alcohol over the wounds on Sam's chest, Sam stifled a scream. Dean began to stitch up the wounds as quickly as he could. Forty-three stitches in all, that bitch had gotten him good. Dean laid gauze over the wounds and sat back in the chair next to Sam's bed. He tried to look at Sam's arm again, but Sam had hidden it under the covers, Dean knew yet Sam was still trying to hide it. Where had Dean gone wrong? What could make Sam do something like this to himself?

"Dean? Are you mad at me?" Sam sounded so young, like the child who used to worship the ground Dean walked on. Dean ran his hand through Sam's hair.

"No I am not mad at you. Sleep now Sammy."

"Don't tell Dad, please."

"We will talk about it tomorrow." Sam nodded his head and then drifted off to sleep. Dean didn't know how to handle this, but he couldn't tell his dad, not yet. Dad and Sam had enough problems with each other he didn't want to give his Dad anymore fuel. He would talk to Sam tomorrow, for now he drifted off into a fitful sleep.

When he woke up there was a note on the table. His Dad was gone, would be back in a couple weeks once Sam was healed up. God forbid he sticks around for a while when his kid is injured. But it would be easier to deal with Sam's little problem if John wasn't around. Sam was still asleep, but he knew he couldn't put this off forever. He went over to Sam and sat on the bed.

"Wake up Sam, I gotta check those bandages." Sam opened his eyes and looked up at Dean. Dean peeled the bandages back, the stitches looked good. He took the old gauze off and replaced it with clean ones. When he was done Sam sat up a little bit and the sheets slipped off his arm. When he noticed he quickly pulled his arm to his chest. Dean sighed.

"You don't have to hide that Sam. I have already seen them."

"That doesn't mean I want you to see them again." The brothers were silent for a while, each trying to figure out how to talk this out.

"How long have you been doing this Sammy?" Dean asked.

"Six or seven months, it wasn't so bad at first, it has just gotten worse over the last little while."

"Why?"

"I can't really explain it. It just makes me feel better. When I feel stressed or tense or mad, it makes it all go away." Dean shook his head.

"I guess this explains the long sleeve fixation… This isn't okay Sam, you have to know that."

"I do know that Dean, but I don't know how else to deal with all of this."

"I will help you, but this has to stop, right now. All my life I have protected you, hurt the things that have hurt you. I can't do that this time, because it is you hurting you. Please Sam, I can't lose you to this." Sam looked at his brother and saw the fear in his eyes.

"Okay Dean, I will try, but I just do not know how to deal with this."

"Well for one you aren't alone, I will help you." Sam smiled.

"Thanks Dean."

The next year was a rough one, Sam was struggling, but Dean knew how to tell when Sam needed a fix. He would get agitated and he wouldn't be able to stay still. When it happened Dean would talk to Sam, or they would go for a walk, they never mentioned the reason, they just did something until the need for Sam to hurt himself was gone. Eventually Sam got better and that look in his eye began to appear less and less. They were going to be okay. And then when the day came where Sam came to Dean and told him he was going to Stanford, Dean accepted it, making Sam promise to call if he ever felt the need to hurt himself. Sam promised, and when he left, after the fight with his Dad Sam never called Dean, and instead of thinking that Sam had forgot about him, he chose to believe Sam never called because he was okay, he was happy, because they had promised that no matter what happened they would always be brothers.

This story will continue, but the next chapters will take place Post Stanford. It will be about Sam's grief facing Jessica's death, and how sometimes, we turn back to old habits to help us cope.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4:

2005

Dean hadn't seen Sam in four years, and he was both happy and sad to see Sam so happy. Happy because it had been so many years since he had seen Sam look so satisfied with life. Sad because Dean could never make Sam that happy, no matter how hard he tried. It had been six years since Dean had found out about Sam's need to hurt himself whenever he felt stressed or angry. Sam had stopped, and then had left for Stanford when he turned eighteen. They hadn't spoken since, but the minute he asked Sam to come with him he had, and that proved what they had always promised: they were still brothers. Having Sam by his side again made him feel better then he had in a long time. Over dinner Sam was in a t-shirt, it seemed he was finally over his fear of people seeing his scars, but they were still there. White marks marred his left arm just like they did 4 years ago, but no more had been added, Sam still had kept the habit kicked. Sam seemed great, at least until his apartment burned down. Jessica's death brought back that hole in Sam, and Dean was afraid he was going to lose his brother for good this time. Sam was withdrawing; he worked case after case, researched constantly and barely slept. If that "wasn't bad enough, Sam was constantly scratching at the scars at his arm. Like he was trying to open them back up again. That scared Dean more then anything else. But he didn't know how to comfort his brother anymore, he wasn't a teenager anymore, he was an adult and Dean wasn't sure it was his place to help. Dean was just coming back from the diner and Sam was still on his laptop.

"Come on Sam, put that thing away, dinner time." Sam didn't even look at Dean.

"I'm not hungry Dean."

"I don't care, you haven't eaten anything in two days. Coffee and protein bars don't count." Sam was picking absently at his arm and Dean grabbed his hand.

"Stop that, Sam." Dean grabbed the laptop off the table and put a salad in front of Sam. "Eat." Sam grumbled but did as he was told. Grumbling and short sentences seemed to be all he could get out of Sam these days. Once they were done eating they watched TV for a while, then Sam went back on his laptop looking for cases in the vicinity of where they were.

"I think I got a case Dean." Dean jumped, he was half asleep when Sam started talking.

"mmmmm, whats that Sammy?"

"There is a house in Wyoming, last thirty years every family that has lived there has had at least one member of the family found dead. Doors locked from the inside, no signs of forced entry. Nobody has lived there since 1998 but the property had been bought by the bank and is going to be resold. We should stop it as long as we are close."

"Fine Sam, we will head out there tomorrow, but you should really try to get some sleep." Sam stared at the wall and picked it his arm.

"Yeah you're right, I should. Good night Dean."

"Night Sammy." I waited until I heard my little brothers breath even out and then I went to sleep. I woke up a few hours later to the sounds of Sam whimpering, that was happening a lot lately. He was having nightmares about Jessica and it broke Dean's heart. The only reason he had been happy that their mother had died when Sam was so young was because Sam wouldn't remember her dying in his room. Now he remembered Jessica burning on the ceiling, and he would remember that for the rest of his life. Normally Dean woke up when he heard Sam whimpering and waited for Sam to wake up, normally it would take a few minutes, then Sam would roll over and go back to sleep. Sometimes he would cry, but Dean would leave him alone, knowing Sam didn't like to be coddled. But Sam wasn't waking up this time, he was gasping for breath and Dean sat up.

"Jess…. No…" Sam said choking on air. Dean walked over to Sam's bed and put his hand on his brother's shoulder.

"Sammy wake up, you're dreaming." Sam continued to gasp and toss and turn. Dean grabbed both his shoulders and shook him. "SAM!" Sam sat up with a gasp and looked at Dean.

"Dean?"

"You okay Sam? You were dreaming." Sam nodded, and scratched at his arm again. "Sam, please stop that." Sam looked confused, then realized what Dean was talking about.

"Sorry Dean, I don't know why I am doing that. I don't even notice most of the time." Dean sighed and sat on the end of Sam's bed.

"Look Sam, I know a lot has changed since you left for school and stuff. I mean, you aren't a moody teenager anymore, and I have probably gotten harder to talk to, but if you ever do need to talk, I'm here." Sam sighed.

"I know you are." Sam whispered. "I just don't have anything to say right now."

"Okay Sam, go back to sleep." Sam nodded and rolled over away from Dean, and Dean went back to his bed, it had been a rough couple of weeks, they both needed some rest.

The next day they had a hunt to do, turned out the house was haunted by the ghost of a nineteen year old girl who had been killed by her step mother. It seemed like the ghost was going after people who betrayed their family. One man had an affair; a daughter stole her mother's credit card. That was the terrible thing about being a ghost; even the most minor infractions seemed like a terrible thing. Spirits get confused when they become vengeful. Her grave was simple enough to find, just a plot in a local cemetery. All they had to do was dig her up and salt and burn her body, simple enough, except it was never that simple for the Winchesters.

"What the hell did they do, bury her in clay?" Dean said. He stretched his back out; it hurt from digging this endless pit.

"Stop your whining Dean, I just scraped the casket, time to get this show on the road." Sam pushed the shovel underneath the lid of the coffin and heaved it open and Dean dumped the salt over the bones.

"Leave me alone!" The ghost said when she appeared on the edge of the gravesite.

"Shit, Dean finish with the body I'll keep her away." Sam jumped out of the grave and swung the iron shovel at the spirit. She disappeared and appeared behind Sam and pushed him up against a tree.

"Sam!" Dean went to drop the gas can, but Sam waved him off and told him to finish it. Dean wanted to go to his brother, but knew he had to finish it. He heard the ghost talking to Sam.

"You betrayed your family!" The ghost screamed. Sam stopped fighting against her hold and stared at her. "You betrayed you family, and the woman you loved. You got her killed!" That is as far as she got, before she went up in flames, Dean had lit the fire in the grave, and the ghost was no more. Sam was lying at the base of the tree panting. What the ghost had just said was running through his mind.

"You okay Sammy?" Dean asked as he leaned down towards his brother, pulling up into a sitting position.

"I'll be fine Dean, but there is something I would like to know."

"What's that?"

"Why the fuck do these bastards always insist on going to the heart, don't they know you shouldn't be able to grab someone heart like that?" Dean laughed.

"Well next ghost we see, be sure to tell them that. C'mon little brother, lets get the hell out of here." He reached down and pulled Sam up by his arm, and they walked back to the car. On the drive back Sam was quiet, picking at that damn spot on his arm again. Dean was concerned, he had heard what the ghost at said to Sam back at the cemetery, and he knew that only had to be building on the thoughts Sam already had going through his head. When they got back to the motel Sam sat on his bed and began to take clothes out of his bag. Dean did the same and pulled the dirt encrusted t-shirt over his head. "You want first shower Sam?"

"No, you ahead. I can wait, just save me some hot water this time." Sam looked up at his brother and smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. Dean walked over toward the bathroom and stopped.

"You didn't betray us you know." Dean said.

"What?" Dean turned toward Sam.

"You didn't betray me and Dad by going to Stanford. You were doing what you needed to do. We aren't mad at you for that. Even Dad, I could tell how sorry he was for the things he said to you. And as far as Jessica goes, you didn't know something was gonna come for her, so you gotta stop carrying that guilt Sam." Dean walked into the bathroom and shut the door. Sam felt a familiar itch growing inside of him. He rubbed his hand against the scars on his arms. He was angry about what his life had become; the love of his life was dead, his father was God knows where, and Dean was trying so hard to make him feel better and he wished he could feel better, but he just didn't know how. Actually the problem was he knew exactly how to make himself feel better, but he been clean for 6 years. Dean came out of the bathroom and told Sam to go get a shower. Sam grabbed his toiletries bag and his clothes and went into the bathroom. He turned the shower on and let the hot water soothe his tired muscles, but that ache in his chest wasn't going away. He stepped out of the shower and sat down on the edge of the tub. Water ran over his face from his hair and Sam made his decision. He wanted to feel better, and he knew how. He opened up his shaving bag and took out a razor blade. He held it to his skin and zoned out, just like he used to as a teenager, he felt the blade sink into his skin and he felt the release he had been searching for, for the past few months. Sam sunk to the ground and looked at the damage, it was worse then it had ever been and he couldn't stop the bleeding. He began to cry, and he heard a knock on the door.

"Are you okay in there Sammy?" Sam heard his brother's voice, and had to decide what to do. Sam didn't want to do this alone this time.

"Dean, I think I fucked up. I need your help."

"Okay Sam, I'm coming in." Dean opened the door and looked around the bathroom, to his little brother on the floor. "Jesus Sammy." Dean grabbed the spare towel off the back of the door and wiped the blood off Sam's arm. "These are gonna need stitches." Sam seemed to be completely spaced out.

"It didn't work this time Dean. Why didn't it work?"

"It never worked Sammy, you know that. You know somewhere in your head that this isn't going to solve anything. C'mon Sam lets go into the other room, I got get you cleaned up." Dean sat Sam down on the bed and began to clean and stitch up Sam's arm. Sam barely noticed, too busy going through the nightmares in his head. "You should go to sleep, Sam."

"I'm not tired." Dean sighed and put his arm around his brother's shoulders.

"What are we gonna do here Sam? I can't watch you do this to yourself again. You don't deserve Sam."

"Yes I do." Sam leaned into his brother.

"Why do you think that?"

"Jessica died in the exact same way as Mom. Whatever took mom came to my apartment and killed my girlfriend. Doesn't that make all of this my fault?"

"No Sam, none if it is your fault. That blame lies with whatever came and killed them not you. And you don't deserve this pain." Sam sighed.

"I think I just opened a can of worms I can't close, because it really did make me feel better, until I realized I had done so much damage."

"Sammy, how can you hurt yourself like that and not notice?"

"I don't know Dean, its like I zone out, and I don't notice what I am doing anymore. It doesn't even hurt until after."

"Did you ever do it when you were at Stanford?"

"I came pretty close a few times my first year, but after I met Jess, I never really felt the need to. She made me feel normal, didn't ask about the secrets she knew I kept. I miss that."

"I know you do Sammy. Look, I can't sit by and watch this happen again, you are gonna kill yourself one of these days. I mean, the nightmares and the picking at the scars, and not sleeping enough. You need to tell me when you feel like this so I can help you through it. I don't know care how late it is, or what we have to do. It'll be like when we were younger, when you would come to me and we would talk or go to the movies or something. Just give me a chance to be your brother again." Sam looked at Dean and smiled, and this time it reached his eyes.

"I was always your brother Dean, no matter where I went, or what I was doing, you were always my brother."

"Okay, so we do this together, just no more cutting."

"Okay Dean, no more cutting."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

2011 (season 7)

After everything Sam had been through he did not deserve this. He started the apocalypse sure, but the years his soul spent getting tortured by archangels was punishment enough for that. Now Sam was hallucinating, but not just hallucinating, hallucinating Lucifer. When Dean walked into that warehouse it terrified him that Sam could not tell what was real, he knew he had to think of something quick. He thought back to his own time in hell, and realized what made things here on earth so different, the pain on earth was different. When he squeezed the cut on Sam's hand, he saw the fog lift from Sam's eyes. Sam believed him; this was real, not hell. When Sam pushed his thumb into the cut on his palm, he saw Lucifer flicker and he knew he wasn't still in hell. It was that simple, the pain couldn't get to his soul up here. Every time Lucifer appeared Sam rubbed that cut on his hand and the pain made him go away.

"Sam, this thing is never going to heal if you don't leave it alone." Dean said, bandaging up Sam's hand again. Sam had been making it bleed on and off for the past 2 weeks.

"It's healing Dean." Sam said, staring into the corner. "Trust me, I can barely feel it any more." Sam continues to stare in a way that made Dean very uneasy. Dean snapped his fingers in front of Sam face.

"Hey, stop looking at whatever is over there." Sam's eyes flashed back towards Dean. "It isn't real." Sam rubbed at his hand and it took everything in Dean not to stop him.

"I know he isn't really there, but he is…"

"I know Sammy, C'mon lets go get something to eat." Sam nodded absently and stood up to follow his brother. He didn't know what he was going to do once his hand healed. He only knew one way to get rid of the devil, and that was through pain, but the cut on his hand was slowly starting to lose its effectiveness. It wasn't enough to know that pain was different up here; he had to prove to himself that pain was different up here. Over the next two weeks, the cut on Sam's hand had healed and it no longer hurt, and he was beginning to struggle with reality. Currently Lucifer was sitting beside Sam on the bed talking about how much he missed torturing Sam, making sure to leave out no details, making sure Sam could never forget. Dean had gone out to the diner to grab something to eat, and Sam was just trying to make it through the 30 minutes it would take Dean to get back.

"C'mon Sammy, you know you miss me, you can't ignore me forever." Lucifer said.

"Don't call me that." Sam whispered.

"Awww c'mon Sam, don't be like that. I thought we bonded through all our time down under. We are practically family. I know everything about you, your fears, all about Jessica and Dean and you dad. You can't hide from me." Lucifer said in a singsong voice. Sam pushed on the scar on his hand that had stopped working days ago.

"Shut up, you aren't real." Sam was scratching the scars that marred his arm; it wouldn't make Lucifer go away, but it made him feel better. He felt a hand on his shoulder and jumped up off the bed.

"Whoa Sam, it's just me." Dean held his hands up defensively in front of himself. "Are you okay?" Sam sighed.

"Yeah, I am fine. He just won't shut up." Sam picked absently at his arm. It didn't take long for Dean to notice and grab hold of Sam's arm.

"Don't start with that again Sammy." Dean knew what Sam wanted to do, hell he had been watching Sam fight this addiction since he was sixteen.

"Sorry Dean, he just won't go away, and the hand thing isn't working anymore."

"It's okay Sam, we will figure it out, just talk to me whenever he comes around okay" Sam looked at his brother, and knew what his brother was saying, he was telling Sam not to hurt himself, to come to him first, but Sam wasn't sure he could do that. He knew what would make Lucifer go away. But it was also something he had been fighting not to do for years. But he needed the pain to make this nightmare stop for a second he needed to breathe.

"Okay, Dean. I will." Tenseness seemed to drain out of Dean's body, but it went straight into Sam's, because for the first time in a long time, Sam knew he was making a promise he wasn't sure he could keep.

Sam tried, he tried for weeks, and every time he saw Lucifer he would tell Dean, and Dean would talk. Just talk, tell stories about when they were kids, when everyone was still happy. When angels and demons were stories they read about, but never had to deal with, before heaven and hell and deals and mistakes created a rift in their family. Eventually Sam would fall asleep listening to Dean go on and on and then everything would be okay for another night. Tonight was a little different. Sam was burning, he could feel it, he was back in the pit again, and he couldn't breathe. He awoke with a gasp. No he wasn't back in the pit, he was with Dean, and it was just a dream. He looked over and his brother was still asleep, he had gotten good at having his nightmares silently. He rarely screamed anymore which he found weird because if anything his dreams had gotten more intense. Sam was shaking as he stood from the bed and went into the bathroom. He was so tired, tired of constantly trying to chase away Lucifer and the bad dreams. Someday his brain was just going to crash, he couldn't do this anymore. He splashed water on his face, and looked into the mirror, he saw the archangel standing beside him.

"Whatya thinking about Sammy? We haven't been able to chat much with Dean's constant chatter." Sam willed Lucifer to go away, but every time he opened his eyes, he was still standing there right behind him. Sam flinched, he could feel Lucifer's breath on the back of his neck, but that wasn't possible, he wasn't real. Sam couldn't do this anymore. He grabbed the shaving kit off of the counter and pulled out a razor blade and held it to his skin, he hesitated for a minute, it was the first time he had not wanted to do this, even though at the same time he really did. Then he looked back in the mirror and saw Lucifer staring at him, and he pulled one quick motion across his arm, over the build up of scars that had laid untouched for years. Lucifer laughed.

"C'mon Sam, that is nothing compared to the things I have done to you." Lucifer said from behind him. Sam made one more cut, a little deeper this time and then pushed down hard on them with his nails, and Lucifer flickered out of sight. Sam breathed a sigh of relief. He cleaned up, pulled his sleeve down and went back to bed. As he was lying there he heard his brother roll over.

"You okay Sammy?" Dean said with sleep in his voice. Sam looked around and saw no archangels in sight, and Sam smiled pushing down on his arm, on his lifeline.

"Yeah, Dean I'm good, go back to sleep."

Things went on like that for a while. Sam must have been doing a better job hiding it this time around, because Dean never seemed to notice that the long sleeves Sam wore, as a teenager had become a facet in his life again. Of course this time, it was cold out, and it wasn't strange for Sam to have another shirt on over top of his t-shirt. Whenever the cuts on Sam's arm healed he would secretly make a few more, just enough so that he would have an escape when hallucinations came knocking on his door. Over the next couple of months Sam realized he was running into a problem, they weren't working anymore. Every time Sam made more they had to be deeper then the ones before to keep the devil away.

Sam and Dean were in a diner the next time Lucifer decided to make an appearance, this time he was sitting beside Dean and turning Sam's food into whatever grossness he thought could make Sam squirm. He pushed on his arm but it did nothing, he should have fixed that this morning but he didn't have time.

"Dean?" Sam whispered just loud enough for his brother to hear him.

"Yeah?" Dean said with a mouth full of burger.

"You're real right?" Dean's eyes got wide, and he swallowed.

"Of course I am Sammy… Is he here?" Sam nodded. "He isn't real, it is just your brain leaking memories from the cage."

"Okay Dean."

"I thought it was getting better. You haven't said anything lately."

"It has been getting better, I just have bad days sometimes."

"So this is a bad day?" Sam met his brother's eyes and suddenly didn't have the energy to lie to him anymore.

"It's a very bad day."

"Okay Sam, lets go back to the motel. Just chill out, okay?"

"No Dean, this hunt needs to be done, we can't keep waiting for me to get better, I am not going to get better, I am sorry for that.

"Sam it isn't your fault, and if this is a bad, then the hunt can wait another day. It is just a ghost, nobody is even living in the house right now, nobody is going to get hurt if we just take a break." Sam sighed.

"Fine, we wait until tomorrow."

They spent the rest of the afternoon lazing around the motel room drinking beer and watching TV. Dean would make a random joke or talk over the commercials, and Sam could tell Dean was just trying to distract him. But Sam could feel the urge to cut himself building up in him again and by the time Dean said he was leaving to go grab dinner, it was almost unbearable.

"You gonna be okay for like 20 minutes?" Dean asked putting on his jacket.

"Yeah, I'll be fine."

"Okay, well call me if you need anything. I'll be back soon." Sam waited for the sound of the Impala to pull out of the motel parking lot, and then grabbed his shaving cut out of his duffel. He needed to make Lucifer go away. He pulled out the razor and made three cuts and put his nail into one of them. Lucifer didn't flicker.

"Looks like you are gonna have to try harder then that Sammy boy. Lucifer said from beside Sam on the bed. Sam made two more cuts on his arm, a little deeper this time, but Lucifer still wouldn't go away. It wasn't working anymore. Tears welled up in Sam's eyes as he tried to figure out what to do. He stood up and walked over to the weapons bag and pulled out on of there hunting knives. They always kept them sharp. Sam ran the knife through his hands and sat back on the bed. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew this was a bad idea and he stopped for a second and took a deep breath.

"C'mon Sam, make me go away. I dare you." Lucifer said. Sam turned and looked at the devil and smiled, he could make him go away. Just as Sam was about to press the knife down hard into his arm, he heard his brother.

"Sam." Dean said slowly. "Stop." Sam had been so sucked into his hallucination he hadn't heard Dean walk in. Sam let the tears run down his cheeks.

"I just need to go away Dean." He still hadn't released that hold on the knife and Dean could see that he was pressing it into his skin; one move and it could slice into something vital.

"I know Sam, and we will figure out just like we always do. But I need you to stay with me. If I have learned anything through all this crap that we have been through, it's that we can't keep secrets and we can't go through things alone. Let me help, but please don't do that." Dean stepped closer and grabbed the hand that was holding the knife. "Please Sam stop." Sam released his grasp on the knife and Dean put it on the table across from them. "Let me clean you up."

"I'm sorry Dean."

"It's okay Sam, I should have known."

"It isn't your job to take care of me Dean." Dean laughed

"That will always be job, you're my brother."

Dean cleaned up Sam's arms, he hadn't done any serious damage, thank God Dean had gotten back when he did, he didn't want to think what Sam could have done with that hunting knife.

"What are we gonna do here Sammy." Dean said, "I feel like you have been teetering on the edge of sanity since you were a kid." Sam laughed.

"We grew up in a world where monsters were real. We were never sane."

"I guess that kiddo. I just feel like for the first time I can't pull you back from the edge."

"Dean, you may be the only person who has kept me from going over the edge, I mean you are my stone number one remember?"

"Yeah I remember Sam. So as your stone number one, I am telling you, this has to stop. I mean, this time I kind of understand, hell I kinda started it this time telling you pain was different up here, but you can't do this to yourself."

"I won't. I mean it doesn't work anymore anyway. That's why I had that knife, I wasn't trying to kill myself anything I just figured it might work better." Dean immediately felt better; at least Sam wanted to live.

"Alright, well first, no more cutting. Hold my God damn hand if you have to, we will figure this out."

"Alright Dean, whatever you say, but I am not holding your hand." Dean laughed.

"C'mon Sammy, you used to hold my hand all the time."

"Yeah because I was 8 years old and dad made me." Dean smiled down at his little brother.

"Yeah, you aren't a kid anymore, but I will probably always still see you that way." Sam looked up at Dean.

"That's alright Dean, cause you'll always be my big brother."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

2012 (Season 8) There is no Amelia in my season 8 chapter because I really disliked that character.

Sam felt like he had been driving forever and he was tired. But eventually he made it to Rufus's cabin, and for the first time in his life, he was 100 percent alone. All of his friends and family were dead, and Sam just couldn't do it anymore. For the first time in his life Sam sat down with a bottle of whiskey for he sheer purpose of getting black out drunk and passing out. Sam wanted to forget, sleep forever. He wouldn't hunt; he wasn't going to save a world that had killed everyone he had ever loved. They were all in a better place and he was going to wait until he was gone too. When Sam woke up the next morning, he saw the blood on his arm, the scars once again split open, for a second he felt shame, but then he remembered he was alone, and it didn't hurt anyone but him if he cut himself. So he pushed down on the cuts and found that calm place, realizing this time it didn't matter if he went too deep this time, Dean wasn't there to stop him, so he knew one day he would go to deep, the problem was this time he didn't care and nobody else was there to care for him.

Dean had never seen anything as beautiful as that run down cabin in the middle of the woods. He just needed somewhere to sleep for a few days, recharge his batteries, then he could go and find Sam. His brother had cancelled all of his cell phones and that really worried Dean, Sam wouldn't ditch the phones unless there was a reason. Dean pulled up to the cabin and grinned, sitting there in all its glory was Baby, she was a little dirty, which Dean would have to kick his brother's ass for, but she was all fixed up.

"Sammy?" Dean called. "You here?" Dean could smell whiskey and blood that was never good. He pushed open the door to the small bedroom and saw Sam stretched out on the bed, he seemed to be asleep, but he had a shimmer of sweat all over his forehead. Dean frowned and put his hand on his brother's forehead to check for a fever, when suddenly Sam jumped up and pulled a gun out from under his pillow.

"SAM! Calm down it's me." Sam stared coldly at Dean.

"No it isn't, Dean is dead. Stop being him." Sam was shaking violently, and Dean was concerned, Sam did not look good. Dean pulled a silver knife out of his back pocket.

"Look Sammy, I am not a shapeshifter." Dean made a thin slice into his forearm; he then took a flask out of his back pocket and poured it on his hand. "Or a demon, c'mon Sam, you know it is me." The coldness drained out of Sam's face and he lowered the gun.

"Dean?" Sam was suddenly across the room folding himself into his brother's arms. Dean could smell whiskey on Sam's breath, and Dean was concerned, but what concerned him more was the raging fever that Sam had.

"Sammy? Are you okay, you are burning up."

"M'fine, I'm just a little drunk, and I've got an infection."

"Infection from what? Something get you when you were out hunting?" Sam laughed at that and took another drink from the glass on the table.

"No, I haven't been hunting in a long time."

"You quit?"

"Yep, why save a world that kills everyone I love." Sam stumbled backwards onto the bed, and curled up on his side. "I need to sleep, will you be here when I wake up?"

"Of course I will." Sam nodded, and fell asleep. Dean rubbed his hand across the stubble on his jaw and sat down in the chair next to Sam. There was blood on his sleeve, not a lot, but enough for Dean to know. He lifted up Sam's sleeve, and saw the crude stitches on many of the cuts carved into Sam's arm. It had obviously been a long year for both of them. The deepest cut was below the crook of Sam's elbow, and it was red and pussy. That could be the cause of the fever.

"I'll get you better little brother, Dean said softly brushing the hair out of Sam's face, he then looked around the room at the empty whiskey bottles. "But as soon as you are better, I am so gonna kick your ass for all of this shit." Sam moved under Dean's hand and his eyes opened up into slits.

"Dean? Are you real?" Dean's heart skipped a beat and travelled back to when Lucifer was running rampant in his brother's mind.

"Yes, I am real Sam. I promise." Sam let out a sigh and closed his eyes again and didn't open them again until morning, and spent most of the next few days in a feverish haze. Dean had pulled the stitches out of Sam's arms. He was going to let them heal without the stitches, they would scar worse, but he couldn't close the wound with the infection on the inside. He covered the wounds with gauze and felt his stomach flip, how could things have gotten this bad?

Sam woke with a groan, his head hurt and he sat up in the bed.

"Morning sunshine." Sam jumped and reached under his pillow for his gun, which wasn't there. "Yeah I took that, didn't want you trying to shoot me again. " Sam turned towards the voice, and remembered that it was Dean.

"Sorry Dean, I forgot you were back." Sam looked down at the new bandages on his arms. "Did you…"

"I had to take the stitches out and let the infection drain out, gotta say kiddo I though we had seen the worst of this, that was just fucked up."

"Sorry." Sam stood up and grabbed the whiskey bottle of the dresser and took a swig from the bottle.

"Do you really think that is necessary?"

"I need to get rid of my headache."

"Yeah that is called a hangover Sam, drinking more doesn't get rid of it." Sam smirked at his brother.

"Are you giving me shit for drinking too much? Seriously? Don't you think you are the last one to give me a lecture?"

"No I am the perfect person to give you a lecture, cause I have been there. What the hell happened this year?" Sam mumbled under his breath. "Can you repeat that so someone can hear you?"

"I lost my stone number one." Dean stood up and put his hand on his brother's shoulder. "I am sorry Sammy." Sam laughed.

"It isn't your fault Dean, it isn't your job to hold me together." Sam was rubbing at that spot on his hand.

"Sam? Are you seeing him again?"

"No but… my entire family was dead, everyone I cared about was gone, where else could I be but hell?" Dean nodded; he could understand his brother's thinking.

"You know this has to stop Sam, I am back you don't need this anymore."

"C'mon Dean, I think we both know I can't stop. I have been stopping for fifteen years. Let's stop kidding ourselves." Dean grabbed Sam by his injured arm and Sam grimaced.

"Shut up Sam. When did you give up? You have slipped up a few times, so what? You haven't exactly had it easy. It's an addiction Sam. You know that. Somewhere in your head you know this isn't making your life any better. Do not let this get the better of you, I am begging you. You didn't let the demon blood get the better of you, and you have been fighting this for a hell of a lot longer. Please, I am back. I am not going to lose you to this." Sam began to tear up, and put his arm around his brother hugging him close.

"Okay Dean, I am sorry."

"Okay Sammy, we are gonna get you better again, I promise. And no more whiskey, cause that is scaring me."

"Okay Dean, just don't leave me again, please. I need my stone number one. "

"I'll try my best Sam, but you know I can't promise that. Especially in our line of work."

"Can you promise anything?" Dean smiled and gave Sam the same familiar promise.

"I promise that I will always be your brother, and even if I can't be here, I still care what you do to yourself." Sam smiled.

"Okay Dean, let's start healing each other. All over again."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7:

2013 (season 9)

Sam awoke in a cold sweat with images of Kevin being killed by his hands flashing before his eyes. He sat up and threw his legs over the side of the bed attempting to get control of his haggard breathing. For the first time in a long time, he pushed down on the collection of scars on his arms. Just as he began to feel pain, Sam gasped and pulled back.

In times past, this would be when he would go to Dean, who would calmly talk him off the edge, and keep him distracted until the need for release past, but this time he couldn't do that. Dean had betrayed him, let an angel inside him, taken away all of Sam's control over his body, and Sam was having a hard time trusting his brother again.

Sam had been ready to die, and even now he wasn't sure if he wanted to be here or not. Especially when he was alone, without his brother having his back. It was a dark cold realization that he had never felt this alone before.

Sam stood and made his way to his closet to pull out his duffel and he slipped out an old pocketknife that he always kept there. He sat back down on the bed, and systematically began opening and closing the knife, the light from the lamp making the silver blade glint with each movement.

Tears slid down his face, and he let out a strangled cry. He wanted to cut, but he didn't want to cut. He wanted to hurt, but he was already hurt enough.

"Sam?" Sam jumped at the voice and closed the knife once again, turning his head towards the voice.

"Cas? What are you doing here?" Sam asked wiping the tears from his face and putting the knife on the end table. Castiel tilted his head and pushed the door open a little farther stepping inside.

"Dean offered to help me gather some information on the Gadriel and Metatron." Cas looked at Sam closely, before his expression turned sympathetic. "You are upset." Sam smiled slightly.

"No, just a bad dream. I'm fine."

"You're lying." Sam laughed.

"Sometimes I miss when you weren't so human. Really Cas it's okay, nothing I can't handle." Cas didn't seem to believe him, but nodded his head anyway.

"We are in the library if you need us."

"Thanks, but I think I will get some sleep."

"Okay, sleep well Sam."

Castiel shut the door behind him, and continued to frown… something was off with the younger Winchester, but Cas did not know exactly what. He made his way back down the hallway to the library, and sat down across from Dean who was indulging himself in an over abundance of whiskey.

"Is Sam okay?" Castiel asked. Dean looked up and crooked an eyebrow at his friend.

"I don't know if you've noticed but me and Sam aren't exactly on heart to heart level speaking terms at the moment. He seemed fine to me earlier. Why?"

"He is upset." Dean snorted and poured some more whiskey.

"What the hell else is knew? He is always pissed off about something."

"No Dean… he is crying." Dean's glass stopped halfway up to his mouth and he stared at Castiel.

"Crying? About what?"

"I am not sure. He claims it was a nightmare, but he looked fully awake to me. He was sitting up and he was flicking that knife of his up and down, but he wouldn't tell me-"

"Wait. He had a knife?" Dean said as a familiar fear crept up his spine. A fear that had been haunting him since Sam and Dean were both teenagers and Sam first took a turn down a dark and painful road.

"Yes, why is that relevant? He is a hunter, knives can't be that strange." Dean stood up and walked quickly towards the entrance of the library, with a yell at Cas to wait there.

He made his way quickly up the hall towards the bedrooms and pushed open Sam's door. To anyone else it would appear Sam was sleeping but Dean knew better. He knew every way his brother's breath hitched, and this was not the breathing of sleep. Dean padded across the room and stood behind his brother's back.

"Sammy, give it to me." Sam tensed, but did not move. "Now, Sam." Sam grunted and rolled over, holding out the pocketknife, which Dean slipped in his back pocket. Dean let out a sigh, and pulled Sam's desk chair over the side of the bed. "Let me see."

"Fuck you." Dean clenched his jaw, but made no retort.

"Damn it Sammy, just let me see the damage and I will leave you alone." Sam scoffed and sat up and pushed up his sleeves.

"I didn't fucking do anything alright?" Dean looked down and sure enough, except for a few red marks from Sam scratching at the scars, there was nothing there except for the roadmap of scars from years past.

"Okay… sorry for bothering you." Dean had gotten Sam out of immediate danger, and at this point that was all he could do if Sam didn't want his help. Dean stood and walked towards the door.

"I'm not as weak as you think I am." That stopped Dean in his tracks, and he closed his eyes, not turning around to face his brother.

"I never thought you were weak Sam."

"Bullshit, that's all I have ever been to you. Poor little Sammy too weak to save himself, which is why you ran in here just now isn't it? To make sure I wasn't bleeding to death in a pool of my own blood? I let you off the hook remember, you don't need to save me anymore." Dean turned towards Sam with his hands clenched.

"No Sam, you let yourself off the hook. You don't want to be my brother anymore? Fine. But I don't let go that easy. You are still my little brother, and I am not gonna let you die, and I am definitely not gonna let you kill yourself. You don't get to cut your God damn wrists in your bedroom while I am sitting in the fucking library." Sam laughed darkly and stood from the bed, walking closer to Dean.

"How are you gonna stop me Dean? You never could. I always found enough time to do it when I wanted to. It isn't like you have a little angel alarm in my head anymore to take over my body when I do something you don't like."

"Damn it Sam, it wasn't like that! And if I have to chain you up in the dungeon to keep you safe I will. I am just hoping it won't come to that. Please Sam. I need you here with Cas and me. We need to fix all this. Just… come to the library, help us research." Sam sighed and gave Dean a dark glare.

"I'll help you… and I'll try not to die. But if I want to cut myself, and have a little bit of control over myself, I'll do it if I want. And you can't stop me." Sam slipped past Dean and into the hallway, leaving Dean alone. Dean punched the concrete wall, and let out a growl.

Sam wasn't going to hurt himself on Dean's watch. Besides, what did he have to lose? Sam already hated him, at least of Sam hated him it meant he is alive, and Dean figured he could live with that… for now at least.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8:

2015 (Season 10)

Tag to: The Werther Project.

Dean watched out of the corner of his eye as Sam squirmed in the passenger seat of the Impala. Now that his wrists were stitched up, he knew from experience that they had to be painful and itchy.

As pissed as Dean was at Cuthbert Sinclair for inventing the Werther box to begin with, that wasn't what had Dean so upset. He was more concerned over what this little mishap would bring up from Sam's past.

"Hey Sammy?" Dean finally said, after driving in silence for the past several minutes. Sam turned his head away from the window to look at his brother's profile.

"What's up Dean?" Dean's jaw twitched.

"Uh… if I ask you something will you promise not to punch me?" Sam quirked an eyebrow at his brother.

"That doesn't sound good."

"I'm serious." Sam sighed and a slight smirk made its way across his face.

"Okay, I won't punch you."

"Why did you slice your wrists?"

"Because the Werther box makes you suicidal, why do you think?" Dean shook his head slightly.

"Yeah… but why that way? You always have a gun on you, that would have been easier… so why?" Sam sighed and turned himself towards his brother.

"Are you asking me if I still want to cut myself?" Dean met his brother's eyes before looking back at the road.

"Well do you?" Dean could feel Sam's eyes on him, and there was silence for a few minutes.

"It has been a long time since I have thought about it, and honestly I don't believe I will ever do it again because what happened today." Dean frowned.

"Why did today change that?" Sam shifted uncomfortably in his seat. They had never really discussed the deep seeded problems that had kept Sam returning to one of his most shameful secrets.

"Look Dean, all those years ago I made a stupid mistake and I brought a blade to my arm. That first time I did it out of anger and despair, bur somewhere along the way I realized I had found something I could control… so from then on when my life went to hell and I lost everything… I went back to that thing I could control." Dean swallowed harshly.

"I'm sorry I ever made you feel that way."

"You didn't, that's all on me. I just didn't realize that I had lost control in my search for control. Honestly, the whole thought process is idiotic."

"No it isn't… I guess I kind of understand why you did it. Care to tell me why today changed anything?" Sam smiled and brought up his left arm, the gauze slightly stained with red blood.

"Something forced me to do this Dean. And it cut through all the old scar tissue. It is gonna put its own scar through all the self inflicted cuts… in its own weird may, this scar has erased the other ones. Cutting was a control thing, today something else controlled that decision for me. Now it doesn't feel like a control thing anymore."

"So… you are telling me, that you almost died, and that is a good thing?" Dean saw Sam smiled, as if sharing a private joke with himself.

"You have no idea Dean. Today was a good day." Dean rolled his eyes.

"You're insane Sammy."

"So are you big brother, so are you."


End file.
